


all I require are circuits and wires

by cinderlily



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8532904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: The pictures have leaked and Amelia decides they need to take control of the narrative. Her plan also might help out Mike Lawson, a bonus. But it does require that Lawson and Ginny fake date... for a short while. 
(AKA, everyone needs a fake dating AU)





	

Somewhere in the middle of the speech Ginny’s brain had gone completely blank, pretty much a sentence after, “You and Mike should start dating.” Which, by the way, was given to her by _Amelia_ , who said it so casually she might as well have been telling her that she should wear black laces rather than white. Then it turned to Oscar who started talking rapid-fire and then Charlie, who she barely freaking knew and she was gone. 

But apparently the part of the meeting where _she_ was supposed to talk was upon them and she had no freaking clue what the actual response to that should be beyond ‘What the fuck?’. She turned to Mike who looked about on the same page, but a little more relaxed in his seat and she frowned. 

“You lost me after trying to act as some sort of Matchmaker,” she said, her voice terse and probably warranting her a huge talk session with Amelia cause yeah, she was already going to give her a talking to as well. 

Charlie brushed at his eyebrows. “ _Pretend_. You are going to pretend to date. Just for a little while.” 

“And why exactly is this a good idea for anyone?” she asked. “I’ve got enough catcher problems, which I know you guys are painfully aware of.” 

Amelia did that thing where she knelt down directly into her face and it always annoyed her but today it annoyed her a little more. “Look, Ginny. Your press is not doing great right now. I mean, neither is the dude who leaked it because it makes him into a jerk. But Mike’s isn’t exactly in the finest quality either…” 

“Hey!” Mike chimed in. 

“There is a legitimate pool as to who you will bang next. Check websites. People have money on it,” Amelia threw over her shoulder, before focusing back on Ginny. “But we rearrange the narrative. Trevor found out that you were in a committed relationship. He used private files to make you look bad out of jealousy.” 

Ginny scooted her chair back. “He had his phone jacked, he didn’t do it on purpose. And besides, isn’t revenge porn illegal?” 

“He’d have burden of proof and statute of limitations on his side,” piped in some random in the room. Probably a lawyer but how should she know. 

“And me dating _Lawson_ will do what? Make it seem like I have catcher fever? Make me a joke?” 

Amelia inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Being in a committed relationship and changing the spotlight will give it a positive spin. Happy warm couples, Mike says a few things about regretting your relationship bringing out such cheap shots. He looks good, you look good. Poof. Then, when you have an amicable break up in a few months you both seem grown up and mature rather than immature and a girl with pictures of you naked everywhere.” 

Ginny looked over at Mike and waited for him to say something, _anything_ , but his eyes were forward and the rest of the crew were looking at her like it was her decision. She stood up, almost knocking Amelia over in the process. 

“Y’all are straight up crazy,” she said and walked out of the room, slamming the door the best she could with the buildings stupid doors that shut themselves slowly.

She made it down to the exercise room in a record amount of time, feeling like her muscles were on fire. Her heartbeat was hard against her chest. She had too much energy, maybe anger and definitely embarrassment laced together. She had fucked up, the photos had been a fuck up. 

Granted, Trevor was the idiot who didn’t respect the rule of getting rid of any and all evidence of that _ever_ and she was in a relationship when she sent it… but it was going to make her face the freaking consequences. Hell, Trevor was probably getting high fives and back slaps, with nice questions about how banging the first girl in MLB felt like. 

She was already in her gear, her bag nearby. She put her headphones in and turned on the nearest machine, the rower. Not particularly her favorite machine but the movement was clear and defined and the familiar pull and strain was enough to distract her. 

She had her loudest mix on, the one she kept for when she was anxious and needed to block out all the noise. It been on heavy rotation as of late. Even still, she could hear the door open and after a minute she saw Mike out of the corner of her eye. She bristled but he didn’t make eye contact, nor did he try and get her attention. 

They started to do the tandem work out that was somewhat a custom when he got up early enough. It was… painfully comfortable. She pushed them both harder than she usually would but Mike didn’t seem to say anything. She got off the rowing machine, her legs a little wobbly, too wobbly for the treadmill. Push ups it was. 

A half hour into it, she took off her headphones and turned to Mike, who was in the middle of a set of BURPEES(?). 

“What?” he asked, clearly out of breath and red cheeked. 

“Did they send you to convince me this is a good idea?” 

Mike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Rook, I can convince you to do _anything_. They would have sent _Eliot_ before they sent my ass.” 

Fair point. 

“It’s bullshit,” she said. “Like, what the fuck? Pictures of me get out and suddenly I have to be a taken women for this to be justified. You have to protect me from the big bad media? What kind of misogynistic backwards jack assery is that?” 

“Misogynistic backwards jack assery,” Mike repeated with a smile. “Jesus, I like that. I mean, I was married to the queen of feminism and I think that topped her.”

She smiled and gave a small bow. “You know, I worked on it.”

“A plus, Baker. A plus,” he gave her two thumbs up. “Are we taking a break? Cause I am almost certain I _have_ legs but I’m not sure where they are.” 

“Hard to keep up, Old Man?” 

Mike landed on a bench and groaned. “Yes. Exactly. I am not to proud to admit to that if it gets me out of keeping up with you and your ‘biology against me’ shit.”

She sat down next to him. “You really think they have a pool about who you’ll date next?” 

“I actually know it,” Mike said with a shrug. “They aren’t as stealth as they think. I’ve been trying to get a coffee date with Rihanna for like two months so I can help Grant out with getting his wife a new ring.” 

She laughed, loudly, and nudged at him. “Rihanna? Really?” 

“All it would take is one good pap photo and I wouldn’t have to do a single damn thing afterwards,” he sounded a bit resigned at the fact. “It’s taken less in the past. Besides, all that Grant’s wife puts up with? She deserves a shiny. The pots up to like 10 grand or some shit.” 

“You know she’s dating Travie McCoy, right?” 

Mike gave her a side eye. “How the hell would you know that?”

“Evelyn took me to a mani-pedi, OK! magazine.” 

“Oh well if OK! said it you KNOW it has to be true.” 

They fell into a silence, broken only by one or the other taking deep breaths or drinks of water. She still felt jittery in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Mike seemed to get at least a part of that, so he let her have the quiet to do it in. She liked that he could read her so well, though she guessed it was an occupational hazard. 

When her breathing got back down to a steady enough pace and the rapidness of her thoughts slowed down she finally started in again. 

“Anybody got money on us?” she asked, genuinely curious. 

Mike’s head whipped to look at her and even though she was still looking forward she saw the gaping jaw he was giving her. 

“Come on Lawson, I told you the fish thing wasn’t a good look.”

There was a long pause and Mike frowned. “I think Tommy had it on us.” 

She swallowed, still a little sore about the trade even though she was all too familiar with the way that was played. That had been most of her life. She inhaled slowly. 

“Want to give his kids a killer moving present?” she slid her hands on her thighs and looked over. 

“You know I told you they _didn’t_ send me down here to change your mind, right? They are probably still fighting over who has to talk to you about this,” Mike glared at her. “And who says I want to be the creeper dating on the Rookie?” 

She put a hand up. “Like you wouldn’t want to date me. I’m awesome. I’m the Beyonce of this league. Just without the money or the Jay-Z.” 

“So that would make me the Jay-Z?” 

“Oh hell no,” Ginny laughed. “For so many reasons, no.” 

“Way to make a guy feel good about himself,” Mike muttered. 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “You can be Jay-Z, but you can’t wear a Yankees hat nor can you cheat on me, even in our fake relationship. She might have made a video with a bat, but I have the actual bat and the _swing_.” 

Mike held up both hands. “I am faithful even in my fakeness. But why the change?” 

“Because,” she said, looking down at her hands gripped to the bench. “They are going to try and dictate this, and if it isn’t this stupid scheme it will be another and I don’t have enough energy to deal with this. I’m in a shitty situation, again, but I’m going to do what needs to be done. If we can spin this right, make the rules clear from day one… it’s controlling the game.” 

She looked over at him, surprised to find that he was looking at her with a small smile and a little bit of awe mixed in. 

“What?” 

“Well, hot damn Rookie,” Mike laughed. “You are evil when you want to be.” 

*

They both took showers and got dressed, figuring they would let the team sweat it out a little longer. When they walked into the office they found that Mike had been right. The crew was in straight up war room mode. A white board with her name on it and random crazy hair brained ideas all over it. She coughed, mostly to cover up a laugh but also to get their attention. 

Amelia looked at her and, in an instant, was smiling. The woman had powers, she swore. 

“You want us to fake date?” Ginny said, squaring her shoulders off. “Well, we want to get somethings straight before we start this circus.” 

Oscar pumped his fist, but Charlie looked at them skeptically. 

“What are your terms?” he asked, crossing his arms. 

“We control how it’s released,” Mike started. 

“A joint statement,” Ginny added in. “None of this Sir Mike in Shining Armor. And we’ll say that while we regret that the pictures are out, I am the one who is being affected. Mike will be there for support. When the inevitable question as to why he’s there we’ll explain.” 

Mike added in. “Then we will do the dating thing. But we control that too. We’ll go to events if _we_ want, we’ll do our own thing occasionally when WE want. But no forcing any crap on us because you think it’ll be better for the image.” 

“And no weird couple shit at the stadium,” Ginny chimed in. “None. We are two professionals. Even if we were really dating? I wouldn’t do PDA in the locker room or in the stadium. I’m not going to be someone I’m not in this situation.” 

There was a long pause where Amelia, Charlie, and Oscar seemed to have some sort of silent conversation. Amelia looked satisfied, Oscar a little anxious and Charlie had the same look of annoying bravado he seemed to wear as a mask at all times. 

“Okay,” Charlie said, clapping his hands. “Here are our terms.” 

She could feel Mike tense beside her. “Your terms?” 

“You will announce you’re dating, not in question form because if the question doesn’t come up then this will be stupid. You will go out and get pictures taken in public every once in awhile and, most importantly, you will not tell _anyone_ this is fake.” 

“WHAT?” Mike practically barked in her ears. 

“It takes one stupid player or players wife to tell one other person and then it’s common knowledge that you two lovebirds are big old fakers and the storm gets worse. We’ll take your terms, you take ours.” 

Ginny really would like to smack the look off Charlie’s face. It made her miss the other guy, and that was a skill. She inhaled and looked at Mike. Mike looked like he would concede defeat and honestly it wasn’t _that_ bad of terms, although lying to Evelyn was going to kill her. She shrugged and Mike nodded. 

“Okay,” she said. “We’ll take it.” 

Charlie leaned over and pressed a button on his phone. “Set up a press conference for 3 pm.” 

She looked over at the clock. It was just past 11:30 in the morning. She would protest about the lack of time but she knew that was futile, the game started at 7:10, they would have to be in the locker room soon enough. She put her hand down and Mike took her hand into his. They didn’t link fingers, but the warmth was comforting. 

“Lunch?” he said, leaning in. 

“Okay.” 

* 

It didn’t even take leaving her ‘locker’ room for Ginny to hear the cacophony of the pressroom. She opened the door to a cacophony coming from down the hallway and to find Mike with a fake looking smile. 

“Well, _honey_ ,” he said. “Ready to be all bright eyed and bushy tailed?” 

“Cute,” she said, adjusting the cap on her head and looking forward with an inhale and a slow exhale. 

Mike rolled his eyes. “Come on, Rook, you’ve faced some of the fiercest hitters on earth and you’re afraid of these jokers? You barely have to say anything, mostly it’s scripted. You have to act like you like me, but I promise to be on my best behavior.” 

They started down the hallway, the noise getting impossibly louder as they got further down the hall. It was miserable, the green mile, she really wanted to turn back but with Mike beside her she had to keep going. They got to the room and found Amelia at the outside of it. She was handed a paper print out of what she was supposed to say. 

She wanted to crumple it up, but instead she let Mike read it over her shoulder. She could feel him shake against her with laughter. They heard their names and Amelia moved a curtain for them. 

“Just remember the golden rule,” Mike whispered in her ear. “Picture them in their underwear. I’m pretty sure the blonde in the front row has a butterfly back tattoo if that helps.” 

Ginny hit his shoulder, gently. “Sexist.” 

He gave her a look. “You think I meant the girl? I meant the guy two down from her.”

The guy who he was pointing at was in his mid fifties and scratching at his small beer belly. Ginny turned around to hide her laughter. Mike was smiling, too. She could do this. 

Amelia sat down on the other side of her and leaned in towards the microphone. The flashes were blinding. “Good afternoon. I’m Amelia Slater, I am Ginny Baker’s agent. I imagine it is clear what we are here to talk about, but I would like to remind the journalists to have a degree of decorum. Ms. Baker has a prepared speech and then we will open it for questions.”

She turned to Ginny and gave her a small nod. Ginny looked down at the paper and realized it hadn’t magically gotten any better. But she was on thin ice and wasn’t going to test out the waters by making any bigger movements. 

“Uh, Hi,” she started and the room started up again with flashes and red lights. She swore she would fight whoever invented the camera, and she knew she’d win. She looked down at the paper. “Three years ago I was in a relationship with someone who I thought I loved. We were serious and committed. I made a decision to take pictures to share with this person and while at the time it didn’t seem like that big of a choice, I see now that it was a poor choice on my behalf. 

“I would like to make clear that the photos were leaked not by the guy I was dating but by someone who stole the password to his cloud account. He is not the bad guy in this equation. 

“The truth is, that there are many people caught in this cross hairs that are being unfairly treated. Myself, my ex … and my current boyfriend.” 

The room practically vibrated, she swore she could feel the stand below her feet moving. Especially when the sudden penny dropped and people started looking over at Mike. Mike, who Ginny saw and felt, move closer to her. 

“What was done can not be taken back but I would hope that people would do myself and Mike the courtesy of giving us space to figure out what we are going to do and how I am going to handle this fall out. It is not my place to apologize for my privacy being invaded but I do apologize to any the people who I’ve hurt with any of my actions.” 

She looked up from the paper and had to resist holding her hand up to avoid the sheer force of everything. Below the table she felt Mike grab at her leg and squeezing. She inhaled and exhaled and tried her best to relax. She looked over at Mike, who was already looking at her and then to Amelia who was looking determinedly at the group in front of them. 

“Now we’ll take questions,” she smiled her wide fake smile. She looked around and pointed at someone, Ginny forcing herself to look. She couldn’t see the face but it might be the guy that Mike had joked about earlier. 

“Sam Wells, San Diego Chronicle,” he introduced himself. “Are we to understand that Mike Lawson and Ginny Baker are dating?” 

Ginny tried for a real smile, keeping it simple. “Yes, we are.” 

“How long? Isn’t the age gap an issue?” 

“One question at a time,” Amelia snapped at Mr. Wells, but Ginny put her hand out. They had more or less gone over this at lunch, just the vaguest of details as it was really pretty weird talking to your friend about your pretend relationship. 

Ginny put her hand on the table and Mike put his next to hers. “Look, we weren’t planning on announcing it, it is our personal business, but it’s been a few months. The age difference is not as wide as one would think and to be honest, of all the people in my life he is the one I can relate to the most. He’s been in the dug out both literally and figuratively.” 

Amelia looked a little startled but pointed at another person. 

“Lily Hughes,” she said. “Is this a front to get around talking about the pictures?” 

Mike leaned in and took the microphone. “Okay, we realize this is not the opportune time to announce but yes, the pictures are a reason. I am not in a good place knowing someone I care about is being put into a position of people judging her for doing something countless people have.” 

“Have you?” 

Amelia jumped in. “This is not even a press conference about Mr. Lawson, could you please focus on what’s at hand here?” 

She pointed again, and Ginny could practically feel the annoyance coming off of Amelia. She wondered, for a minute, if she still had feelings for Mike. But that was beyond the point now. It had been nearly six weeks since they’d broken up. 

“Greg Hart,” said the next guy. “Ginny, aren’t you concerned with his history?” 

And that, apparently, was when she was going to be the jumpy one. 

“Excuse me?” she said. She heard Amelia start to say something, felt Mike’s hand slip to her thigh. “Which history are we talking about? His amazing work on and off the field to make this team what it is today? His dedication to his team, which is his family? OR the brief stint that he had dating consenting women? Because I don’t know about you or your life but I am happy with my partner. I am really happy with him. And I am thankful for his past because it makes him who he is today. So, nah, his history doesn’t concern me one bit, and my history doesn’t concern him.” 

The room went, for a single moment, pin drop silent. She was leaned forward on the microphone and could pick out a few faces, all looking at her with varying degrees of surprise. 

“And that will be concluding today’s conference,” Amelia said, seemingly snapping to and breaking the silence. There were people yelling and hollering, but Amelia had her by the arm and pulling her rather forcefully off the stage. 

They got into the hallway but Amelia didn’t let her go, they just kept walking. She could feel, rather than see, Mike behind her as she was trying not to trip over her feet. She got to the doorway and put a hand back to the doorframe to stop Amelia. 

“What?” Ginny said, Amelia letting go and Mike hitting her back. 

Amelia turned around with a small smile on her face, if Ginny didn’t know her better she would say it was angry as the line was pretty thin but the curve told her everything. “Are you KIDDING me here, Baker? I work with you for years to try and get to you to give that kind of performance and yet you pull it out at the last minute? All I had to do was be mean to Lawson? I could have done that AGES ago.” 

“Hey!?” Mike called out from behind her. They both walked into the small office space and Amelia closed the door. 

“That is what is going to be talked about tonight. Screw the pictures, they are going to be a stupid piece of misogyny that will probably rile up the fundies but whatever. Ginny Baker practically attacking one of the press for hitting up her boyfriend? Oh yeah. And we can spin that any which way we want. It was a thing of pure unaltered beauty. I wish I still worked in Hollywood, I would send that in for the Oscar reel.” 

Amelia was walking around in grand circles happily. 

Mike hit her shoulder, she caught his eye and he smiled. “Hey, thanks for that by the way.” 

Ginny was still a little perplexed at what she had done. “I was just saying what I meant to say. I mean. Who cares who he slept with… I mean…” 

There was an awkward moment when all three realized that she _had_ cared who he was sleeping with but yeah. She shook it off and smiled. 

“I never got the crap of ‘he should only have been with me’,” she shrugged. “I mean, I’m not the queen of experience but unless we all married our first loves? We all have a past. So what the hell ever.” 

Mike grinned at her. “Well, Baker, as your fake boyfriend I am thankful you are okay with my impurity. I still might wear white on our fake wedding day.” 

“If you’re okay with me wearing cleats,” she teased and nudged at him. 

“Okay, even not dating you are kind of annoying me right now,” Amelia said. “I now have to do the spin of the century and it’s going to be amazing. So leave me. Go. Go.” 

They were ushered out and Ginny didn’t know if she should point out that that wasn’t _her_ office but it didn’t seem to matter to Amelia so whatever. When they got into the hallway she and Mike just stood and stared at each other for a long moment. She was pretty sure that she should say something but pretty much had said her limit for the day so she kind of half shrugged. 

“You know this is only half over, right?” Mike said. 

Ginny blinked at him. “Half over?” 

Her phone started to vibrate in her pocket and her stomach dropped when she saw that it was Evelyn. Half over. Oh shit. This was going to be an adventure. She let it go to voicemail, which was a shitty idea as it instantly started ringing again. She picked up the second time. 

“Look, so you have…” 

“YOU ARE DATING MIKE LAWSON AND I HEAR IT THROUGH A PRESS CONFERENCE?” 

She held the phone a foot from her head and even still it felt like Evelyn was a quarter of an inch from her face. Mike winced in sympathy but then looked down at his own phone and got ghost white. 

‘Fuuuuck,’ he mouthed and picked up the phone. 

“It was… sudden?” she said, closest to the truth as she could get without coming out and saying, ‘ _Like six hours ago sudden_ ’. 

“Sudden and something you don’t tell me, even though we had lunch four times last week and you came over to watch movies with my kids TWO NIGHTS ago?” 

Ginny swallowed and thought of all the things that she really didn’t want to do here. Number one would be lying to her. She wasn’t much for lying in general, evading she was pretty good at, but lying just made her skin itch. 

“Look, it was sudden and new and there was that whole baggage of Amelia and I just… I didn’t know what to say or even _if I could say it_.” 

Evelyn tutted. “Was he keeping you on the hook? Was he trying to pull the ‘just a casual thing’? Cause I will kill him. After the season, naturally, but kill him.” 

“No, he didn’t. We just took things really slowly. I was going through things. He was going through things.” 

“Wait, did he dump Amelia for you? Or did Amelia dump him because you were all flirty? You said months, but your thing was six weeks ago… Ginny were you…?” 

Ginny’s eyes went wide. “We DID NOT DO or FEEL a THING before the Amelia thing. Or I mean, _I did_ but I he really didn’t. He was comfortable with her and happy. I just uh, realized it. And told him about it. We started a few days after, because of reasons that… look. Can we talk about this later? I have my phone vibrating against my shoulder.” 

“We are seeing each other tonight. Tell lover boy that you are _mine_ tonight.” 

“Of course. I love you, Evelyn.” 

“Love you too,” Evelyn responded. “I might kick you later, but I’ll do it gently.” 

Ginny smiled as she hung up the phone. She wasn’t kidding when she said her shoulder was being vibrated. There was a group message from the team with about responses ranging from ‘called it!’ to rather lewd responses. She was still petrified of walking into the locker room but whatever. She’d faced worse. 

Mike was back and staring at her open mouthed. She held up a hand. 

“Who was it? Your agent?” 

“Who?” 

She pointed at his phone. 

“Oh, uh, my ex?” 

She shuddered. “Okay, you win this. Evelyn is scary but your ex scared the hell out of me. Are you in on the texts?” Mike was still looking at her and she snapped her fingers in front of his face. “You in there Lawson?” 

“Yeah, of course,” he said, shaking his head and putting a hand up. “So you want to Rochambeau for who walks into the locker room first or go in on this together.” 

Ginny took a deep breath. “Well. I guess if we’re dating it’s a together type of moment.” 

Mike nodded and they started to walk down towards the locker room. “Admit it, you’re just scared of my mad Rochambeau skills.” 

“Right,” she laughed. “You are like seventy-five percent paper. Too easy, Old Man.” 

“You say the sweetest things.” 

She rolled her shoulders to relax them. At least she didn’t have to pitch tonight. They hit the main room doors and it was slightly ajar, meaning she wasn’t going to see any junk she didn’t want to see. 

“Now or never, I guess,” Ginny tried for confident.

“I can take Blip, but you’re young and scrappy so you get the bigger crew.” 

She turned, winked and nodded. “Got it, Cap.” 

They pushed the door open and found it to be… well. Quiet. Quieter than normal, which was about as bad as a sign as she could fear. All the guys were looking in towards their locker room, even Blip who she had expected to be in her corner with no questions. She turned to Mike who looked a little annoyed, actually. 

He coughed. “Okay. Group meeting.”

No one moved. 

“Guys, what the hell?” 

Suddenly, out of the loudspeaker, ‘Going to the Chapel’ started playing and a group of the guys turned to toss paper confetti at the both of them. It was awkward and horrible but just enough to make both of them laugh before Mike put up his hands. 

“Turn that off, man,” Mike said, looking at Murphy who had the iPod in his hand. He just smiled. “For the love of…” 

The music turned down slightly and the group were all up in their faces. Except, actually, Blip, who was a few feet back and she could see from his stance that maybe he wasn’t actually as okay with this as she would have hoped. 

“How did you finally tap that fine ass?” Murphy yelled from a little away and the room went slightly quiet. 

“Not okay, Murphy,” Mike snapped, hands on his hips. “I know this is giving you a look into our lives but she is still our…”

Murphy shook his head and pointed at Mike. “Why’d you think I was talking to you. I’ve been smacked on the ass for the better part of three years now and she finally tames the wildebeest.” 

The unease broke with laughter. Ginny felt the knot in her chest slowly disentangle. Mike’s face broke out into a big smile. 

“Aww, baby, you know that I’ll still be delivering my ass smacking, it’s who I am.” And then, he charged the group. Murphy’s eyes went wide and didn’t even have time to stop before Mike smacked Murphy’s ass hard enough to get him to arch. 

“Jesus H. Christ!” 

Ginny took the opportunity of all the guys looking away to walk over to Blip, who was still looking at her like she had honest to goodness grown a third eye. She looked down at his shoes for a second, _Nike_ … nice. She rubbed her hands on her arms even though the locker room always had a warm pinch in the air. 

“Listen,” she started, but like his wife he interrupted. 

He put his hand up. “Look, Gin. You date who you date and I am not here to judge it but… I saw you two months ago. I saw you post Trevor. I know your rule and why you keep it. I just don’t know what you’re doing and I’m not exactly excited at the prospect of seeing you hurt again.” 

“He’s not going to hurt me,” she said, fairly confidently. It’s hard to get hurt when you basically have a contract between you. 

Blip flicked a look at Mike, who was in the center of the group being ragged on and looking like a King holding court. 

“Ginny, I’ve been the one he goes to for a while now. I talked to him, picked him up from bars, and sometimes lifted him bodily up after his divorce. Tell me you are going into this with open eyes and I’ll believe you.” 

She swallowed and focused her eyes on Blips, trying not to blink. “I am going into this with clear and open eyes.” 

Blip leaned in and gave her a tight hug, pulling back with a half smile. “Okay. Cause I really don’t know how much bail is for murder but I know I have to save it up. Evelyn has texted and called twice.” 

“Oh god,” Ginny put a hand up to her face. “She’ll be in line behind my brother and my mom.” And then the force of those words hit her. “OH GOD, MY MOM.” 

 

* 

 

The general failing of the internet and all that surrounded it was that by the time she called her mom, a grand twenty five minutes after the conference had happened she was answered with. 

“Oh, hello, I was wondering where I was on the list.” 

Ginny sighed, she was alone in her mini-locker room. “Mama, this was all really sudden and I didn’t think to call you because I didn’t think to call anyone, no one.” 

“ _Months_ ,” her mom said, “Were you dating this _man_ when you came to dinner? Is that why he was so nice and cordial?” 

“What? Mom, no,” Ginny rubbed her eyes. “I was not dating Mike back then. He was a friend. A total friend, I asked him to dinner because I figured you might want to meet my teammates and he is… was… _is_ my teammate. He was nice because he is nice. Generally. When he’s not being a jackass.” 

“Don’t talk about your boyfriend like that,” she rebuked, as if she wasn’t just about to attack him ten seconds prior. “I’m going to have to come out and properly meet him. Is the internet right? Is he thirteen years older than you?” 

It was closer to fourteen but that was a nugget she could keep her damn mouth shut on. “Yes, but he’s really nice, mom. And he and I are really… happy. We’re taking it slow. Just this whole thing with Trevor…” 

Her mom made a guttural sound of disapproval. She’d never quite come out and said she didn’t like Trevor but recent events had brought out the only type of mama bear that she’d seen her mom show in well over a decade. The name was more or less a curse word to her. 

“Wait, did you just say you were coming out?” Ginny asked, her brain retracing its steps and suddenly hitting on it. 

“Of course, I mean, I met him,” her mom said. “But he was more or less a face in the crowd. I want to meet a man in your life. You are so secretive…” 

“Mom we have games and it’s getting to crunch time and I wouldn’t be able to…” 

Her mom tutted. “Genevieve Baker, take a breath. I’m coming and you are going to handle it. I will send you the flight info, but it won’t be for a few weeks. I know your schedule well enough. I’ll make sure you’re in town. You don’t have to baby me. But dinner and breakfast and possibly even time seated in a room together would be appropriate. Love you.” 

Without even the opportunity to say I love you back the line went quiet and she looked at her screen to see the picture of her holding up the twins, one under each her arms. She cursed the phone a few times, like Apple had anything to do with her mom being the way she was. It was just a moment of pure blind aggravation. 

There was a knock on the door and it opened on it’s own. 

Mike walked in with a tentative frown. “You okay there, Baker?” 

“Uh, ask me again in a few weeks,” she rubbed at her face. “My mom wants to meet you.” 

Mike sat on the other chair and rubbed at his knees. “How many moms you got?” 

“Just the one,” Ginny cracked her neck. 

“Then I’ve already jumped that hurdle and paid for an expensive ass dinner in the process.” 

Ginny frowned. “No. I… She wants to _meet_ you. Like Mike Lawson, her daughter’s older boyfriend, not Mike Lawson, her daughter’s suave generous Captain who gives tickets to his pitcher’s mom without her permission.” 

“Ooo, getting passive aggressive thing day one of dating,” Mike wagged his finger at her. “You are advanced. Are you sure you’ve not been taking lessons?” 

She kicked out at Mike’s shin, where he had a guard on. “Shut up. Let me be annoyed. She’s going to grill you, you know that right? Like full on ‘high school, if she knew how to clean a gun she’d be doing it’ grilling right?”

“What’s to worry about? I told you, I am EXCELLENT with parents.” 

“Oh ho ho, let me take note on that,” she bit at her lip. “Maybe if we put it off enough we’ll be broken up by then. Oh, break up has to be totally amicable if you cherish your life.” 

Mike grimaced. “Yeah, got that from Blip. Evelyn scares me. But I _think_ I promised dinner at their house next week.” 

Ginny inhaled very very slowly and then closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. Her therapist had told her to try doing that when she felt the panic rise. It helped, if only pushing it off a little. 

“Okay, we got this, right?” she asked, perhaps a little desperately. 

Mike nodded, not showing any joking or teasing. “We got this.” 

*

Mostly, over the next few days, they did have it. They went through their usual routines and didn’t change much except Mike usually picked Ginny up at the hotel because there were paparazzi every which way. They ate breakfast together, which wasn’t that weird. Every once in awhile she’d put her hand out when they out and Mike would lace their fingers together. That was about as much PDA as they got. 

She had had an insanely intense conversation with Evelyn the first night so she was pretty gun shy about seeming anything other than purely happy. Mike was his usual grumpy self. It was a little daunting but Mike being himself kept her more or less calm. 

She has a start and it’s actually really good. Besides the fact that there were about a thousand signs that had the phrase “Ginny + Mike = OTP” or “BAWSON!”. She was pretty sure that would mean that she was officially being shipped, a phrase she only knew through the twins. Though she wasn’t sure she liked that she got a Brangelina name, also Bawson? Really? Maybe Laker. Eh. 

 

The one time that Mike had come up to the bump during the game there were a few catcalls and a single whoop but if she could ignore every other catcall, she could get over the indication she was bumping uglies with Mike. 

After the game the scrum was, as expected, a few simple questions about the game and then a shit load of questions about her and Mike. She deflected what she could and out and out lied when she could. Mike was getting the same, she could see it out of the corner of her eye and they met eyes and smiled. 

“Looking at you two it’s hard to think that we missed it, how hard has it been for you to keep it to yourself?” 

She tried hard to not roll her eyes desperately. Rather she kept her face as straight as possible. “Well, it’s easy for me to keep it to myself. But La--Mike. Mike wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s been super hard on him. I mean, just look at him, the big softy.” 

Blip, beside her, let out a noise that sounded like a cough, laugh, and groan mixed all together. She was pretty sure that she was going to crack in a minute if it kept going but thankfully Amelia came in between them and asked for the scrum to end. She turned her head and Blip surreptitiously threw up the finger. 

She happily went back to her locker room to change out. 

Mike leaned against the wall across from her room when she came out twenty minutes later, smarmy smile on his face. “I’m a big old softy?” 

“The biggest,” she said and winked. “Hotel sweet home?” 

He shook his head. “I was thinking maybe we could go celebrate our win.” 

“I don’t have the energy for a bar or for the guys,” she admitted. 

“Who said the guys OR a bar?” Mike asked. “I’m thinking something a little different.” 

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. 

* 

Ginny would have to give him this, Mike Lawson had some moves. Granted, he was using his moves on her in an attempt for a photo opp but she didn’t care. He’d taken her to a Pinkberry which had pumpkin soft serve that she would have a machine installed in her house… if she had a house. 

He had made a concoction that she couldn’t even describe with gummi worms, oreo crumbles and orange sherbet. He didn’t say anything when she moaned at first bite of hers so she didn’t say much, beyond the initial fake gag. The girl behind the counter gave them a surreptitious smile and Ginny looked for the camera phone but didn’t see it. So she was either really good or just nice. 

They got a table in the back, but near enough a window, and Ginny crossed her legs underneath the table and took a bite. It was amazing. 

“You know when guys get wind of this they _are_ going to called you whipped, right?” Ginny asked, a third of her yogurt demolished. 

Mike shrugged, taking a bite. “Naw, if anyone it would be you being whipped. I mean. I barely had to ask and here you are.” 

“Hmmm,” she thought about it, taking another bite. “Good point, but how will THEY know that?” She looked over and Mike was staring a little bit. She wiped at her face and felt it go warm. “What? Where?” 

Mike blinked. “Right cheek.” 

“Awesome,” she laughed as she swiped at her cheek with a napkin. “I can see a guy trying to steal second out of the corner of my eye but I can’t tell what is DIRECTLY in my face.” 

“Why didn’t you want to go to the bar, by the way?” Mike asked. “You know it’s team bonding and all that.” 

Ginny looked down at her cup, she was starting to see the bottom. She might want to slow down. “Look, I’m aware my presence affects the dynamics. Occasionally I don’t go so you guys can do the guy thing without feeling the girl alert.” 

Mike snapped his fingers a few inches from her face, forcing her to look up a little. “Don’t do that.” 

“What?” 

“You are a Padre. You are just as much of a Padre as any of those guys. Come on the nights you want to come,” he said, and he leaned in to lift her jaw. “Make them get used to you. I’ve got a feeling you will be here a good long while.” 

Suddenly the window was lit up. They both looked and … well. Paparazzi achieved. Adrenaline kicked in and she felt the distinct urge to run but Mike grabbed her hand instead. 

“Come on Rook, we’re good,” he said calmly as possible. 

“Just, we should … go,” she said with the best version of a smile on her face. He took the hand he had in his and kissed the edge. “Finish the soft serve, we’ll go.” 

She caught herself looking at him and genuinely feeling her heartbeat slow down, the adrenaline running just a bit slower. She nodded, looking down and brushing her hair behind her ear. “Okay. You finish your monstrosity.” 

“I’ll have you know this is a damn delight,” Mike said with a laugh. “Granted I first ate it on a dare and it used to have coconut and raspberry dressing in it which I would NOT recommend but you know, life moves on. The oreo is a nice crunch. The gummi worms are delicious and orange sherbet has less calories than the other stuff…” 

“Oh yeah, a guy eating Oreo crumbles and gummi worms is definitely worrying about the extra 120 calories saved from sherbet to soft serve,” she teased, scraping the bottom of her pumpkin ice cream and kind of wanting more. She watched as Mike finished his. 

They stood up and Ginny went to grab for her cap to pull it down before she realized she didn’t have one. Mike took her hand again, but she refused to let him lead her, she walked beside him. He squeezed her hand just as he pulled open the door. The questions were there, loud and really pretty damn invasive. She was used to scrums and even just outside her hotel but this was overwhelming. 

“Forgoing team for a date night?” came from her right and Mike looked over with a smile. 

“Got to get time when you can.” 

“How do the guys feel about it?” 

“Well, I try and take them all on dates but they get all fussy about it,” Mike chided, clicking his car unlocked. 

“Ginny, is Mike a good date?” 

Ginny paused, having opened the door and tried a smile. “Well, Mike I’m still weighing. But I highly suggest the pumpkin flavor here. Don’t let him make any food choices for you.” 

She got into the passenger seat and locked herself in, Mike got in beside her and nudged her. “It’s not that unholy of a mixture.” 

“Yeah, keep saying that to yourself, _dear_ ,” she tilted her head down to avoid the camera light. 

“Okay, they got their piece, they’ll disperse. Hopefully,” Mike said. He turned his car on and the screen turned into a video, showing a few people lingering behind them. “Thank God for back up cameras. Like I need, ‘Lawson hit dumbasses with cameras’ out there.” 

Ginny felt herself going tighter into herself, feeling caged in. “You have this happen often?” 

“Not _that_ often,” Mike shrugged. “But I went on a few dates with a singer and we learned to get around them pretty easily.” 

“A singer?” her ears perked at that. “Which one?” 

Mike finally started to back up and the people dispersed. “Oh yeah, you have my picture on your wall but don’t follow my dating career?” 

“I _didn’t_ ,” Ginny said, thankfully it was dark enough to cover any blush. “Also, I don’t know if you remember but you don’t get a lot of time for the gossip rags when you’re fighting to get to the Show.” 

“Let’s just say she is a country singer and leave it at that.” 

Ginny flipped. “DID YOU DATE TAYLOR SWIFT?” 

“No!” Mike called out. “Baker, she’s like…” 

“Older than me?” Ginny pointed out. 

Mike rubbed his eyes. “You are going to be the death of me.” 

“Come on, it can’t be that bad… Country singer. Country singer… Carrie Underwood is married to someone who could kick your ass handedly….” 

Mike held up a hand. “I could take her husband.” 

“He plays hockey. He has no respect for his brain nor his teeth, the man could take you down in a half a minute… And don’t think this is getting you around this. WHO?” 

Mike half shrugged, looking out at the road and if she wasn’t mistaken he looked pretty uncomfortable. “Cassandra Pope. Three dates. Nothing big.” 

“Was she on the list?” 

“No, she wasn’t,” he said. “You dated any famous guys. Drake? Hell, Rihanna, oh god, Rook. Tell me you dated Rihanna.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, me and Rihanna’s twisted love is one we don’t speak of. Dude, I’m lucky if I talk with a guy who isn’t just looking for Ginny Baker, first female baseball player, only not really. I’m like some sort of collection item.” 

“Well, screw ‘em.” 

“I’ve _tried_ ,” she said and then laughed at the face that she got in return. “What? You know I’m not a blushing virgin, you saw the photos.” 

Mike frowned. “No, I haven’t.” 

She didn’t actually know what to say to that one. Of course he’d seen it. Everyone had seen those damn pictures. They were the bane of her existence. They were plastered on every news organization, ESPN and FSN. 

“You… haven’t… seen them?” 

“Yeah,” he said, sounding pretty offended. “What the hell would I look at them for? I told the guys they weren’t allowed to do it either, though I’m not their mom and I don’t search internet history.” 

She turned in her seat. “Mike, those things have been everywhere. I’m pretty sure a hermit who literally lives in a cave has seen them.” 

“So? You’re my teammate. I’m not letting the fucker who thought that leaking them would get them some sort of rise out of you win. That’s just not happening.” 

And really, how was she supposed to respond to that? 

 

*

She woke the next morning to a text message from Amelia that was mostly exclamation points and a few random “Call me”s. She rolled over and ducked her head into her pillow. She’d gotten a good amount of sleep but she never had as much energy as Amelia did in the morning. She wondered if the woman ever slept at all. 

Bracing herself she clicked send and the phone rang exactly once before she got a response. 

“Who’s idea was the date?” she asked, in that voice that Ginny could never decipher if it was angry or happy. 

She rubbed at her face. “Lawson. Why?”

“I’m sending him the best whiskey I can find,” she bubbled. “Are you kidding me? Did you get a kiss in? Was that a kiss?” 

“What are you TALKING about?” 

She got a tutt. “Open your computer, I emailed you the link. The photos are A plus. No one is even TALKING about stupid Trevor gate. Brilliant. Totally brilliant.” 

Ginny’s computer was on the floor by her bed, because she’d watched an episode of the Get Down before she went to bed. She picked it up and opened it. The hotel’s wifi left a lot to be desired but after a minute it connected and she opened the email to find about a half a dozen links. One was to E, which was ridiculous. She clicked it out of pure fascination and BAM. 

A half a dozen pictures of her and Mike seated at the table. The one she suspected Amelia was talking about was the one with Mike’s fingers under her chin. It looked… well. Intimate. Beyond intimate. She closed the screen. 

“Uh, you’re welcome?” she said finally. 

“I’ve got to go. I’ve got like three hundred no comments to go through. I’ll talk to you later.”

She wasn’t surprised when the phone went quiet. 

Even though she knew that Mike was still dead to the world she texted him a link. “ _Amelia says she owes you booze. Call her on it._ ” 

Life was freaking weird. 

She crawled out of bed and got herself into her workout gear, because she might as well take the edge of an early work out when she can. Her arm was aching a little bit, so before she started she put on a ice back and wrapped it herself as none of the of trainers were in yet. 

Taking it slow was not really in her vocabulary so she got on the bike and started it on hills. It worked for her and she got a good twenty minutes in before grumpy Mike came in. 

“What the hell are you doing up, Old Man?” she smiled. 

“You woke me up and then you weren’t at your place,” he said, a little annoyed. 

She shrugged and winced a little. “Was up, didn’t mean to wake you up though.” 

“It’s okay,” he said. “What’s with the wince?” 

“You know we play this sport called ‘baseball’. Requires a pitcher and a catcher. Other players but they are far less important,” she smiled, but he put his arms over his chest. She sighed. “Eighty seven might not be the fastest but it can be pretty dang nasty on the arm if you do it enough.” 

Mike grabbed his phone out of his pocket and pressed it open. He hit a button before Ginny got the chance to ask what the hell he was doing. After a minute he had his Captain voice on and she was a little stunned to hear him talking intensely of medical jargon. 

When he finally hung up she stopped bicycling and leaned forward. “Uh. Question?” 

“What?” 

“Who the HELL was that?” 

Mike rolled his shoulders, even she could tell ‘Alpha’ behavior but whatever. “That was my physical therapist, who will be here in twenty minutes.” 

“You have your PT on…” she started but realized it was a pretty dumb question. Of course he does. “I don’t need a physical therapist. I’ll have one of the guys look when they get in. I iced it and wrapped it.” 

Mike tilted his head and sat down on the other bike, with absolutely no intention of biking. “So the pictures were interesting.” 

Ginny laughed. “Oh god, you don’t even want to know how Amelia was this morning. I think she would have done anything for me, up to and including getting me a pony.” 

“Get the pony,” Mike smiled back at her. “Always get the pony.” 

“Well, I’d have to keep it at your palace. Hotel’s aren’t meant for hooves. Plus I can’t keep plants alive, so you’d have to do all the work.”

“Maybe no on the pony,” Mike said, a finger on his chin. “Try for a car.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Naw, I think I’m good. You can try for something though. Go crazy. I told her it was your idea. You got the in.” 

When she realized just how that sounded she looked away. 

“I’m all good,” he said, forced lightly. “Own a car dealership and horses scare me.” 

She started to aimlessly push on the pedals, more or less distracting herself from the weird feeling in her chest. It wasn’t like they hadn’t talked about the whole Amelia thing. Actually, they had yelled in each other’s faces about it but that was a while ago and they’d reached a silent but mutual agreement that the less they talked about it the less it would affect things. 

There was a knock on the door and Mike went to answer it, greeting a guy with a huge pat on the back. The guy was… well. What Ginny would call her type if she had a type. Tall and broad and gorgeous. He also looked at her like he was not the type to take things lightly when it came to injuries, which was the exact opposite of what she was hoping for. 

“Baker, this is Halls, Halls, this is Baker,” Mike said, walking between them. 

“Hi, I’m Eric Halsman, you prefer Ginny or Baker?” he reached his hand out and took it. 

“You can call me Ginny,” she smiled, awkwardly taking his hand with her unwrapped arm. 

Eric, or Halls?, looked over at Mike with a frown. “Call your girl by her last name. Geez.” 

She could swear she saw Mike blush but Eric was already directing her to a table set up in the corner. “So what’s going on?” 

“Just a little pinch in my shoulder,” she said. “Nothing big. I pitched a long game last night. It wasn’t anything my _guy_ had to call his therapist for.” 

“I like you,” Eric laughed. “Whiiich is why I’m going to take a look here. I like your pitching style but you tend to overwork your shoulder and neck. It’s common in pitchers who aren’t as confident in their fastball.” 

Ginny frowned. “It’s not lack of confidence, it’s lack of power. Which I understand about myself.” 

“She shakes me off, Halls, she shakes me off so often,” Mike said, standing a few feet back and shaking his head. 

She stuck her tongue out at him and he smiled. “Maybe I wouldn’t shake you off if you called better plays.” 

“You hear her?” Mike asked. 

“AUGH,” she couldn’t stop herself from groaning as Eric tested her arm, pulling it up. It wasn’t exactly sharp or even throbbing, both good signs, but it was really really tight and the sensation was jarring. Mike went from his small smile to sitting on the table beside her in about three seconds flat. 

Eric made a noise of disapproval, but eased her arm back down. “Okay. That? That wasn’t good. Not bad… but not good. Did you feel any pinching while throwing last night?” 

“I always feel a little pinch, especially on the curves,” she said, because even though she would rather eat glass than say that in front of Mike, she knew it was better to be truthful with a guy who knew what he was doing.

“ _Baker_ ,” Mike rebuked. 

Eric put his hands up. “Easy Lawson, she’s fine. Just maybe a small nerve thing. Breathe.” 

“If it’s been hurting her all this time, can it be chronic? Will it need surgery?” 

“Maybe and probably not,” Eric crossed his arms. “Give me a minute, will you?” 

Ginny looked between them. “Yeah, still here. Human being, not just a shoulder.” 

Eric looked at her and smiled. “Sorry about that. Just didn’t want the Captain to lose his lunch, he was going greener than when I do stretches on his knees.” 

She decided to pack that away for later, as right now she’d heard ‘chronic’ and only a _probably_ before the ‘not’. “So what are we doing here?” 

“Well, we’re going to take some screens. Probably a cortisone shot for now and then I’ll talk to your trainers. In the interim I suggest taking the next day or two off. You don’t have to pitch so that’s good, rest up your arm and don’t pick up anything you don’t have to. Don’t stretch more than you have to. I’m going to give you a few muscle relaxers to help with comfort level.” 

“Got it,” Mike said before she could, she glared over at him. 

She let out a cough, which actually pinched her shoulder but was worth it when Mike looked at her. “Me. I’m the one who gets it.” 

“Sorry,” Mike tilted his head towards her. 

“He’ll also be slightly responsible for you,” Eric pointed out. 

Ginny frowned. “Just because we’re dating doesn’t mean he owns me.” 

“And I’m not saying that, but you’re going to need a driver and that usually falls upon the significant other. Not to mention I’d recommend staying at one place together to lower the urge to stretch more than you have to.” 

She froze. Not her ideal situation. Granted, she was totally aware of Mike’s freaking mansion so it wasn’t like she’d be sharing her hotel room but she wasn’t pleased. 

“Now let’s go get those X-rays.” 

Mike _helped her off the table_ , like she was dying or something. “Don’t you need a key for those rooms?”

“Oh he has the keys,” Mike laughed. “He is pretty much best friends with those machines. As am I, unfortunately.” 

 

* 

An hour later she was rewrapped with a fervor that she had not put on her arm since the minors. There had been about ten different shots done of her shoulder and Mike had called the trainers to come in. It was like she was not entirely part of the process but she let them call the shots if only because her nerves had started to get jangled. 

She had flat out told Mike to not tell Amelia but that hadn’t worked in either of their favor because she’d stormed in right as she was getting the cortisone shot with a look that could curdle milk. Amelia got the run down from a rather intimidated looking trainer and she looked directly at Mike. 

“You’re taking her home?” 

Mike nodded, looking about as comfortable as the shot had felt. 

“You start tonight?” 

He shook his head. They had been trying to rotate between him and Peterson for the last few weeks to give his knees a break. 

“You stay home and you take care of her.” 

Mike shook his head. “That’s not exactly how baseball works.” 

Amelia blinked at him, face blank in the scariest of ways. 

“You’re going to have to talk to the skipper and Charlie about that,” Mike said, breaking easily. 

She stormed out. 

“She seems nice,” Eric mused. “I’ve got your meds ready. All you got to do is get home and get resting. Lawson, no freaking out. She’s good, got me?” 

Mike shrugged. “Fine.” 

She hopped off the table before Mike could help her and got a glare from Mike when she winced. It wasn’t that bad. Like Mike had any room to talk about playing through pain. But she followed as he lead her to the parking lot. She saw her car and frowned. 

“Ugh. Will I get towed if I park overnight?” 

Mike practically barked a laugh. “If you don’t think that Amelia will have Eliot all over that car and getting you some scrubs from your hotel room with in twenty minutes you should probably _meet_ your manager.” 

Fair enough. 

She let Mike open the car door and slid in. She gingerly put on her seatbelt as he walked around. When he looked at her and it was done she could swear he had planned on doing it for her. This was sure to be a fun few days. 

 

*

The muscle relaxers, apparently, were better than the last ones she got. Mike had given her some orange juice and turned on ESPN, giving her the bigger part of the L shaped couch to stretch out with a pillow under her shoulder. She’d swallowed the pill, smushed her body into the best possible position for her shoulder and her view of the TV and… well. That’s all she could remember. 

She woke to her stomach making loud noises of disapproval and an amused Mike nearby. 

“You okay there Rookie?” 

“What time is it?” she said and moved herself to sitting position. 

Mike looked over at the cable box that read 1:15. “I got Jimmy John’s about an hour ago. Want water or a Coke?” 

“Coke,” she said, knowing better she should be on water. Mike didn’t point it out and as he left the room she started repositioning the pillows so that she could lean back. He came out with two subs and a thing of chips, along with a can of coke AND a bottle of water. 

“Don’t spill on the couch, I’m sure whoever decorated this place would be greatly offended,” he said and went and plopped back down on the other side. 

She picked up one of the subs and took a huge bite. It was like manna from heaven. She’d been up so early she was pretty starved for carbs. She looked over at Mike and grinned. “If I knew all it took was a little arm pain to get the royal treatment I would have played it up earlier.” 

“Not funny,” Mike said, and his voice meant business. “You don’t keep pain from me, okay?” 

Ginny gave him an unimpressed look. “How those knees doing, _Cap_?” 

“You know damn well my knees are shit,” he said. “I didn’t hear about a pinch for most of the season? This could have been bad. Trust me, letting it go by is what got me where I am today.” 

She took another few bites, feeling a little guilty. He had a point and she knew it. Had it been him keeping this kind of thing from her she’d have hurt him. “I told a few of the trainers once or twice but they mostly thought it was routine exertion. I ice, I heat. I do all the exercise recommended.” 

“The trainers said what?” He gawked at her, sitting up like a dog ready to fight. “Which ones?” 

“I am not giving you any names, cause your face is scaring me,” she put her hand out. “You’ve got to know I am not here for the damsel in distress act.” 

He frowned and looked at the TV. They were going over a gaff that the Giants had pulled, which was nice enough. She continued to eat for a little bit, polishing off one of the subs and making serious headway on the second. She took sips of the soda and gulps of the water. Damn training. 

“Sorry,” Mike broke the silence first and she gave a double take. 

“What?” 

Mike exhaled. “I did that with Rachel. She completely hated it. She was always getting threats and crap from people, you know. Investigative type journalism warrants it. And I’d get riled up. So, I’m sorry. You’re an adult.” 

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Thank you. That’s kind of … big of you.” 

“You should have SEEN the therapy bills,” Mike smiled ruefully. “That breakthrough alone probably cost me a grand two years ago.” 

Ginny laughed. “Yeah. Therapists sure are fun.” 

She thought about the fact that she had a half a dozen texts from her therapist that had gone unanswered since the announcement. She didn’t know if the rule of not telling extended to her and knew that she would see through any lies she attempted. She was freaky good at reading her. Avoidance was working for her, for now. 

“How are you feeling?” Mike asked. 

Ginny moved her arm a little, it pulled but it wasn’t as bad as earlier. “I’m guessing it’s still the meds but I’m okay for now.” 

“Yeah, you still have about two hours before your next dosage. The urge to hit something won’t come in for another hour or so.” 

She put her empty plate down on the coffee table and gently laid back. “You’re going to the game, by the way.” 

“Actually, funny story,” Mike said from the other side of the couch. “I’ve been given a personal day.” 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Oh dear lord, the media.” 

“Hey, those were freaking amazing pictures from last night,” Mike pointed out, sounding pleased with himself. “We were pretty nauseating, at least according to the guys.” 

“You need to go in, Peterson is still nursing his ring finger,” she frowned at the roof. “I’m not losing us a game because you had to play nurse.” 

“Peterson isn’t playing, they’re giving Omar a chance behind the plate again.” 

She jolted up and turned around, all around two really poor choices. Both movements seemed to feel like pulling at a tight string. Mike was on his feet and by her side, bringing her back down to the pillows and cursing her under his breath. 

“They said he was coming in for on base, they had him on base,” she said. “Why would they put him behind home plate?” 

Mike was fixing the pillows a little and avoiding eye contact. “Well, if my guess is correct they are going to slowly try and replace me.” 

“They can’t do that,” she snapped. “You’re _Mike Lawson_ , you’re the Captain.” 

“I’m not saying that it’s going to work but I am saying they are going to try,” Mike said, a smile starting at the corners of his lips. “Geez Rook, if I knew all it took was a little trade talk to get you to my defense I would have used it in my favor earlier.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Shut up.” 

“I would but I’m getting the feeling you _like_ me or something,” he teased. 

*

They get a phone call that afternoon telling her that the nerve didn’t look pinched and that she should be fine in a few days. But it did mean she was going to have to go through some mechanics work out to figure out what in her fastball was giving her a pinch like that. 

They still advised rest, which was against everything in her sense of self but Mike gave her a look over the speakerphone that told her to not fight. She wasn’t going to lose her next start, and that is what mattered most to her. She still grumbled that Mike should be at Petco but then he brought her chili for dinner and gave her meds and she dozed on the couch while they watched the game. 

Between one of the innings she heard a commentator say something with her name in it so she lifted her head and looked at Mike. His face was red and he looked like he might chuck the remote at his insanely large and expensive TV. 

“What?” she asked and he immediately muted the TV. 

“Stupid Sweeney,” he grumbled. “Go back to bed.” 

“I’m not sleeping,” she said. “I’m just dozing.” 

He grunted. She checked the score again, they were still up 3 to 1… whatever Sweeney said couldn’t have been that bad. She pushed herself up a bit to try and get a full view of the screen. 

“Is everyone okay?” she said, feeling foggy and exhausted but that last lingering surge of energy for concern. 

Mike got up to go towards her, lifting the blanket she’d had laid on her most of the day over her body. “Everyone is fine. You lay down. Now.” 

“Mother hen,” she groused. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I’m the worst.” 

“Naw,” she sighed, eyes already closing. “You’re kind of the best.” 

 

* 

By the time she got out of the fog and back into the trainer’s office they had more or less made all the decisions for her. She had asked that Mike stay outside because he was way more intense and she needed to focus on it. 

She kind of regretted it as they went through what was going to be needed. She was not allowed to pass eighty pitches in a game for the immediate future. She was going to work with Eric for the rest of the season, as he had already basically been following her tapes while watching Mike’s. She had to do an extra physical training each week. 

It was all pretty par for the course, but it was a bit scary. She’d never faced a real injury as of yet. But she smiled and nodded and said that she would take care of herself and of course she would do physical therapy. Like she had a choice. 

She walked out to find both Mike and Blip seated on the floor across from the room. 

“Why are you sitting on the floor, Old Man, you know that can’t be good for your back,” she said. 

“Aww, you two and your terms of endearment,” Blip teased. “We were concerned about your well being.” 

Mike groaned as he got up and she felt a flare of anger at him for being so stupid. She swallowed around the urge to tell him to stop it and rather conveyed what she’d been told. She tried to keep it light but she saw Mike’s eyes go dark when she talked about the therapy sessions and the possibility of cortisone shots. 

“So you know, that’s it, no reason to freak out,” she waved her hands. “And no reason to sit on stone cold floor for an hour while you could have been in the comfort of another training room, our posh locker room, or pretty much anywhere else.

She shifted uncomfortably. “Come on boys, let’s get back to the locker room.” 

“You aren’t pitching…” Mike started. 

“No, _baby_ ,” she pointed out. “I will listen to my doc. But it doesn’t mean I can’t actually sit and enjoy the game, with my arm nice and tightly wrapped.” 

Mike relaxed considerably. 

 

*

 

They were on a decent enough home stand that by the time she got back on the mound she was happily feeling herself again. Even with the fact that she was still on a hotel bed, it was _her_ bed and an odd form of home. Eric had given her the go ahead, though he stayed in the dugout with their pitching coach apparently closely monitoring the situation. 

Not that they had to. 

She swore Mike was out to the base after every other hitter, not to mention when she got into the dugout. She knew pitcher-catcher communication was key but it was a little absurd. When her count was at about sixty (she had to guess, she only got updates between innings) Mike trotted to the mound and gave her a look. 

“You doing okay?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

Mike looked back at the mound. “You have eighteen left maximum. How’s your arm doing?” 

She shrugged her shoulders, loosening the slight knot in her pitching arm. “Fine. I can do this… have you been counting each one?” 

“It’s my job, Baker.” 

“Hey, Lawson, come on.” 

Ginny stretched again, the last stretch having made it tighter rather than looser. Mike lifted his arm immediately. 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” she said without bothering to cover her mouth. 

Al came jogging, or close to, out to the mound. “Everything okay?” 

“She’s ready,” Mike said. 

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready,” Ginny pointed out. “God, Mike… It’s barely the sixth.” 

Mike looked at Al. “She’s been throwing too far right for the last three outs, and she flinched twice in the time we were talking.” 

Al made a motion to the dugout. “Better safe than sorry.” 

Ginny looked at both of the guys and covered her face with her glove to let loose a string of expletives that made Al look shocked. She wouldn’t look Mike in the face when she handed the glove over to Al and walked off the field. 

She stormed down the hallway that led to the locker room and into her locker room to take a hasty shower. She was hoping to get as close to ready to leave before she had to face the scrum. That way there was little time for Mike to try and talk to her. 

It worked. She did her after game scrum with a fake smile on her face. She told them all the things that they needed to hear, that Mike was just looking out for the best for her and that she was not mad just frustrated with herself. She avoided questions about the relationship with comments about that being something off the field and on the field they were just Pitcher and Catcher. (Two of the guys chuckled, she was proud of her ability to _not_ punch them.) 

By the time they were done and off to the next person he was still in the middle, not showered or out of uniform. She walked out and got into her car, thankful she had to come for an early therapy session warranting her a lack of dependence on him. She drove to the hotel and got into her room, flopped on her bed with a flair of dramatic. 

Whatever. 

What gave him the right to count her pitches, she was doing fine. She let one run in but they had _won_ the game. He was being a caveman and she kind of wanted to club him over the head with a large stick, a bat didn’t feel satisfying enough. 

She wasn’t surprised when her phone rang an hour later, less so when it was Mike. She almost hit ignore but she wouldn’t mind a good rant in his general direction. “What the fuck, Lawson?” 

“You were dropping your pitches,” he responded, like they’d already been in the conversation. 

“I was not,” she retorted. “I’d gotten a strike out and a walk, I wasn’t giving up homers.” 

He exhaled loudly and she hugged her knees. “Look, Baker. It was your first game back. You needed someone to tell you to back off. I’m not saying you were bad but do you want to go on the IR?” 

“No,” she said. “But the doc said eighty, I had twenty pitches left.” 

“UP TO eighty, it wasn’t a magic number or something. Eric agreed with me, by the way. Which you would have known if you had stuck around for longer than ten minutes.” 

She sighed. “You’ve got to give me faith and you HAVE to let me in on decisions. You know that the talking heads are going to be all over you ‘handling’ your woman. I am not a damsel, Lawson. I’m capable of making my own decisions.” 

“Well, your decisions can be wrong,” he retorted. “And to think I was going to bring you cupcakes.” 

She paused. “Cupcakes? Like real ones, not the health shit they try and sell us at the park?” 

“Open your door and you’ll see I don’t pull that crap,” Mike said. 

She got up off of her bed, thankful she’d put on sleep pants. She crept to the door and opened it. Mike was outside and holding a big pink box, which he opened to show a dozen different types of cupcakes, each with a little sign on top to tell her what they were. 

“Why are you bringing me cupcakes?” she asked dubiously. 

“Honestly, I probably overreacted. I was a little anxious. So think of these as ‘I’m sorry I was kind of a dick’ cupcakes.” 

She smiled and opened the door wider. “Well, if you bring me these every time you are kind of a dick I’m going to have to work out more.” 

“Some of these are for me, you know,” he said and she gave an exaggerated put upon sigh. 

“I guess, but dibs on the birthday cake one.” 

Mike set them on the coffee table and took out two small bottles of milk from his pockets. “It’s all yours.” 

“Romance,” she smiled. 

*

A few weeks of fake domestic bliss later she was getting sick of the outside dates. They always made her feel like they were both under a microscope. They were actually in decent contention and maybe, _possibly_ might even make it to October but she still had to go out to events and on fake dates. Not that she minded spending time with Mike. In fact quite the opposite. She had thought of him as a friend from the beginning but now they were pushed into this intimacy she was getting too comfortable with. 

That being said, Mike was feeling the same pressure, or appeared to be. So when the Chargers were playing the Cardinals and Mike had asked if she wanted to watch with him she said yes. She wasn’t much for football, but she liked to support San Diego teams so she figured sitting on a couch with Mike and yelling at players she didn’t know would be the easiest way to do so. It was their day off, after all. 

Mike was in the kitchen grabbing some drinks for them to drink while watching the game when his phone rang. She didn’t really think it through, she just grabbed it and hit send, the word ‘JAMES’ processing just about two seconds after the speaker hit her ear. 

“Mike’s phone,” she said, her voice going weirdly high. 

There was a pause and then a boisterous voice came through. “Is this THE Ginny Baker?” 

“Yes, sir,” she said, blushing and putting her hand to her face. “Um, can I ask who’s calling?” 

“Just your competition,” the voice teased. “My boy has been avoiding letting me talk to you.” 

_For good reason_ , she thought. He walked into the room and saw her holding his phone and when her eyes went wide he put the drinks down. 

“Who?” he whispered. 

“Well, _James_ , we’ve been working to keep this pretty low key.” She looked at him and saw his eyes go so wide. He gave her an immediate, ‘give me’ motion. Oh, this had to be good. 

“I know that isn’t the reason, he is just a little nervous. See, I have all the dirt.” 

She laughed. “Probably why he was so hesitant. I’ve got some decent dirt, maybe we could play trade?” 

“Oh you and I are going to get along so well,” James laughed. “Did you know he slept in his catcher's mask for two years? And I’m talking age eleven to thirteen, none of this five year old shit. He said it helped him focus in his sleep.” 

“No way,” she put a hand to her mouth. The image of a tiny Mike Lawson with his catcher’s mask on and his face slack was pretty much the best she could think of. “You don’t happen to have photos of that.” 

“DAMN IT JAMES, IF YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT THE MASK,” Mike bellowed. 

James laughed like a hyena. “For that I might come down for a visit.” 

“Give me the phone, Baker,” Mike said, stance and voice like he was calming a horse. She fell back into the crook of the couch and put her feet up to stop him. 

“We are going to be friends,” Ginny said. 

The phone call lasted well over an hour, almost through the first half of the game and Mike maybe got four minutes of a conversation with one of his best friends from the minors. By the end of it Ginny had given over her phone number and James had offered her the few pictures he could find on his phone to show her. 

All in all, it was the best way to spend a Sunday off. 

*

It had come to this. A game to play into the postseason against the freaking _Giants_. She wasn’t even pitching, which was the worst part of the whole thing. She put her uniform on and gave Johnson a tight nod. Never talk to the starting pitcher on a game like this. 

Her arm had gotten much better. She thought she should be the one put in and it was like a slap to the face that they didn’t choose her. But it was strategy so she decided that the best course of action was to just bring herself into a good place. She was there for the team. 

Mike knocked on her locker room door and she knew it was him by the familiar and dumb ‘shave and a hair cut’ wrap he did. 

“Come in,” she called out.

He walked in and sat down on the empty chair, staring her down. 

“Scale of one to ten, how annoyed are you?” 

She frowned. “You know it’s ten.” 

He nodded. “Okay, vent it.” 

“What?” 

“Look, all of our pitchers wanted it to be them. They all fought hard to get here. But there will be other games, and I am not letting anybody bring the mood down. We might get the freaking Wild Card, Rook. Let me have it. Yell. Holler. Throw something in my general direction… just not the face. Protect the money maker.” 

She laughed, which felt good in a way she hadn’t thought she needed. “Shut up, Lawson.” 

A look flicked over his face, a smile and something else, before he returned to form. “It sucks. But we rally, we play and we have a seven game series to show them who the fucking Padres are. And I know just as well as you that you will not only bring out your A game but you will kick some ass and take some names. But tonight we are all in for Johnson. Got me?” 

“Shouldn’t that have been a team speech?” she asked. 

“Oh no,” he shook his head. “They’re getting angry me. This is a you speech. Because I know you better than those knuckleheads. Want to come watch me and see if I can make one of them cry?”

She laughed again, and there was that look. “Okay. But I’ve got five bucks on Anderson. He looks like a crier.” 

* 

Anderson didn’t cry before the game, but there were a lot of tears after. Hidden and mostly manly but there were tears. Johnson had played well and they’d gone to the bottom of the tenth but Buster Posey had knocked one out of the park that they couldn’t get back. 

There weren’t any speeches, even though she knew that Mike wanted to give one. They’d gotten so close they could all taste it. But it wasn’t close enough. 

When the night ended and they were in Mike’s car heading towards her hotel she whispered softly, “Next year.” 

“You’re damn right,” Mike responded. 

*

Charlie called them into the front office on clean out day, something that was a little cruel and unusual. Mike had needled Ginny into going to ice cream and possibly a bar with the guys after, it was always a hard day. There was the concrete knowledge that some of the guys weren’t going to be there the next year. 

When they walked in, Amelia was on one side, Eliot behind her on his phone, and Oscar on the other side. They sat down in the chairs and as soon as she sat down a ball hit the pit of her stomach and she just knew what was coming next. 

“Okay guys, you are officially off the clock,” Charlie said, feet up on the desk and smiling like he just told them they were going to the World Series. 

“What?” Mike said, his voice light like he didn’t get it. “That’s what we thought cleaning out the locker room meant.” 

Ginny gnawed on the inside of her cheek. She was half hoping there was some other thing that got them off the clock. Amelia, however, rolled her eyes at him and moved forward. 

“He means the dating thing,” she said. “Season is over. Probably best to do it in the off season, let it go through a news cycle and then when you get back you can show how mature you are and how you worked through all your issues in the off season. We might even get a piece in the newspaper. ‘Broke up but not broken.’” 

Ginny must have made a face because Oscar jumped in.

“You don’t have to do it publicly, don’t worry. No press conference. It might be better to just disband and not really see each other. Find a few dates and get ‘caught’, you know. Subtle.” 

Mike was a little tense beside her but he nodded, she caught it out of the corner of her eyes. “…Subtle.” 

“Well, it makes sense,” Ginny said, forcing a smile. “I guess. Uh. Thank you.” 

She pushed herself out of the seat and shook hands with the guys. Amelia told her they needed to go over details later but the words flew over her head. Mike was a minute behind her but he made the rounds with shaking hands. She felt a little robotic, a feeling she was way too used to. 

They got out in the hallway and Mike had a crease right between his forehead. 

“So. Broken up?” he said, voice harsh and annoyed. 

“I guess,” she said, trying for bright and chill. 

Mike looked at the ground. “We can’t like… not today or anything.” 

“Why?” 

“The guys, we’re going out tonight. If we broke up, they’d see it.”

He had a fair enough point, and Oscar had said to let it fall apart without announcing it. Her teammates were amazing on a lot of fronts but keeping anything to themselves was not one of them. She put a hand through her hair and tugged on her ponytail. 

“Okay, so. Tonight we go out and have fun, keep up the dating thing. One last big hurrah. Mom wants a visit. That could be a good cover for me to … you know. Uncouple?” 

Mike gave a half smile. “Damn, Rook. Going to your mom. I must be a hard person to break up with.” 

He had no idea, really. 

There was a long silence before they realized they were just standing outside of Charlie’s office looking at each other. Mike rubbed his hands together. “You got your locker cleared?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Ice cream?” 

“Pinkberry,” she said, impulsively. 

Mike full on smiled. “Only if you promise to _try_ mine.”

She thought about it for a minute. “One bite and I swear if you make me sick in public I am going to call James and tell him you’re mean to me.” 

“I swear, letting you talk to him was the dumbest thing I’ve done and if you ask my divorce lawyer you would find that a big hit,” he said. They turned and he put his hand on her back.

They’d taken one car to Petco, so she threw her bag in the back next to his and they drove down the familiar path that brought them to the little soft serve spot. There was actually people in it, which was weird. Generally they’d gone at night after games, late enough that most people were at home or drinking.

It was barely three in the afternoon, which apparently was prime soft serve time. 

They walked in and Ginny heard the familiar hush of a room when she walked in. She was never ever getting over that creepy shit. It was like that feeling where she knew someone was talking about her by the way they quieted when she walked up to them. She looked straight forward and kept herself relaxed. 

Mike seemingly cared less, walked across the room and went straight for the Orange Sherbet. They had the Pumpkin still, which was actually seasonally appropriate which was nice. This time though, with no season looming over her head, she decided to go a little crazy. 

(She remembered her night out with Cara and her brain teased her for thinking this was wild.) 

She put graham cracker crumbles, marshmallows and chocolate sauce on it before depositing it on the weight machine next to Mike’s. 

“Geez Gin,” he teased. “You’re an expensive date in the off season.” 

“If you want a cheap date you could go to a model,” she chirped back before she realized that he … might **actually** do that. 

He took her bowl off the machine and handed to her. “Yeah, no. I much rather have someone who I can talk to. And who would annoy me but you?” 

The girl behind the counter made a noise that was a cross between a squeal and a sigh and the word that popped up in Ginny’s mind was Gabe’s use of ‘Squee’. Her cheeks went warm and they walked over towards the nearest table. She had a feeling of weird calm as they sat at a table near the back, nowhere near the window. 

“Let’s go Baker,” Mike grinned. “Time to pay the piper.” 

“Come again?” 

He dug into his bowl and came out with a huge spoonful of mess. Ginny stuck out her tongue but leaned in and took the bite. The sherbet was tart, the oreo was crunchy, and the gummy was really chewy and at first it was as disgusting as she thought it would be but after a bite or two she had to admit it mixed together in an absurdly okay way. 

“Admit it,” he said, lifting his eyebrows. 

She swallowed the last bit and shrugged. “Okay, it’s only half as heinous as I thought. Bordering on okay.” 

“Bordering on okay?” Mike laughed. “I’ll take it.” 

“Good, cause that’s all you’re going to get it.” 

He smiled and she impulsively lifted a spoonful towards him. He took the bite without comment and hummed. 

“Tastes like Thanksgiving,” he said. 

“My mom makes some good pie,” she admitted. “My dad always limited me to one piece but then she would slip into my room at night to give me a second piece.” 

Mike looked down at the table with a smirk. “Yeah? My mom used to make a second pie for me alone once I hit middle school.” 

“A whole pie?” she boggled. “Stupid biology. Metabolisms suck.” 

He looked back up. “Yeah, learned that at thirty when mine went the way of the dodo. I got called the Stay Puft Man by a newspaper.” 

She choked on a snort. “I remember that.” 

“Cause you stalked me,” he nudged her under the table. “I gained fifteen pounds, by the way. It was the off season and I gained _fifteen pounds_.” 

“You don’t have to tell me,” she held up her hands. “I gain three and it hits the news cycles.” 

Mike took another bite of his food and Ginny looked down. She was almost done with hers. She slowed down a bit, she was liking the company and the ever present ticking clock felt like it was hanging over her head. 

“So you doing Thanksgiving with your family this year?” she asked. 

He made a face. “After a divorce, it’s not nearly as fun to go in on that. My mom wasn’t Rachel’s biggest fan but she definitely was not pleased with the end of that. I guess she’s going to be even more pissed cause she _likes_ you.” 

“She never met me,” Ginny said, feeling warm nevertheless. “But you can tell her I was evil and terrible and made your life miserable if it helps.” 

Mike frowned at her. “I’m not going to to do that.” 

“What, I can cackle with the best of them,” she smiled, looking down at her bowl. 

“You’re still gonna be my friend,” he kicked her. “One of my bests. Don’t forget that.” 

She looked up at the sincere look in his eyes and her entire stomach flipped. The thought wasn’t a new one but the suddenness hit her quickly. She was totally screwed. 

*

They stopped by her hotel and she grabbed one of the few dresses she’d wear out with the guys on a night out. It was simple, flowy, and long and didn’t show off her curves nearly as much as most dresses. She wasn’t dumb, she knew that the tight dresses made some of the guys uncomfortable. Sure, a small part of her was annoyed she had to cater to them but whatever. She had her first season under her belt, nowhere to go but up 

The bar they were wall meeting up at was in the Gas Lamp district and one of the guys had been smart enough to call ahead and get the back room for just them. It was weird to see all the guys there, the nights out had been off and on small groups and ones she didn’t go to. 

“Well, look at this,” Anderson grinned. “Have a good afternoon, kids?” 

“Better than yours,” Mike snapped back, automatically. 

Blip held up his phone and Ginny had to lean in to see a side by side picture of the two of them _feeding_ each other. Whoops. 

“Feeding each other?” Murphy teased from down the table. “You practicing for the wedding?” 

Mike’s hand slipped into hers and she momentarily froze. This was fake. This was _it_. 

“Yeah, Murphs,” she tossed off. “Wedding of the century, I might even invite Drake. It’s going to be tragic when your invitation falls into the harbor. Your wife can still come, though. I hear she’s got a thing for Canadians.” 

Blip blinked at her and Mike’s hand squeezed hers tightly. Okay. Maybe mentioning a _wedding_ wasn’t her finest idea. 

“A _joke_ , guys,” she said loudly. “Like you fools would hear anything about anything like that first. I might be famous for nudes but I’m not Kardashianing this.” 

The group laughed and the air returned to the room. 

“Jesus fools,” she said, as she slipped into an open seat. “I’m looking for another ring before _that_ one.” 

“AMEN!” came ringing from around the group. 

A woman came in with a plate full of what appeared to be tequila if the small lime wedges and salt shakers were any indicators. 

“MIRANDA, MY SWEET MIRANDA!” Anderson called out loudly. 

The waitress, Miranda, rolled her eyes but smiled. Ginny threw her an apologetic glance. The tip was going to be insane, she would make sure of it. She took her shot and thanked her. Mike, who had still been standing, knocked the guy next to her, Clint, over a few inches. 

“Move,” he said, aggressively. Ginny gave him a weird look. “What can I say? I like your face.” 

Clint stood up and made a slight gagging noise, easing down a few chairs. Mike sat down beside her, a shot glass in hand. It was the first toast of the night so they all looked to the captain for the great speech. Ginny laughed when she saw the tips of his ears go red. All that bravado and still he got the shy thing. 

“Okay guys, not to reiterate from earlier but this isn’t a season to look down upon. We worked, hard, and did the best we could. Next year, we are going to do better. So let’s just toast to that. To better.” 

“TO BETTER!” 

Ginny forgot the sting of the first shot of tequila every single time but the lime was a nice bite. She held the lime in her mouth and made a face at Mike who mimicked her, and they both laughed even though it was straight out of the three year old playbook. Whatever. 

* 

The Uber dropped them off at Mike’s house and without discussion she got out of the car and waved the guy off. She wasn’t even drunk, but driving would be a bad idea and Mike had said the same thing. They’d drank and ate and shot the shit until just past midnight. She talked to each and every one of her teammates. 

It was shocking how many had talked back. Not just cursory hellos and ‘hell of a season’ but rather conversations about their winter and the possibilities of Fall Ball. A couple of the other rookies were heading out to Arizona to get the extra practice, which she had thought about doing but had been advised against. Rather she was going to spend the winter doing mechanics in house.

Which meant she had to _get_ a house but that was for future sober Ginny. 

Mike offered her a drink, just a beer, but she went for water instead. She didn’t want to wake up to a headache or a hangover. The night had been too good to lose the memories or the sweetness of just being part of the group. 

“The curse over?” Mike said, sitting down next to her with a bottle of water for each of them. 

She paused before she sipped. “Curse?” 

“You went out with all the guys and the world didn’t end,” he said with a smile. “They even liked you were there.” 

She shrugged but smiled. “I wouldn’t go that far, but it was a good night. I’m glad it happened.” 

They both laid back on the plush of the couch and put their feet on the table. She had long since taken off her heels, and he’d toed off his shoes at the door so it was her bare feet and his socked feet. She nudged them together. 

“It was a good year,” she said. 

Mike nudged her with his elbow. “It was a freaking strange year. I mean, Telenovela strange.” 

She laughed, probably louder than warranted but lifter her water bottles to clink them. Even though it left a lump in her throat she added a hasty toast. “To breaking up.” 

He looked at her for a minute and then a minute more. Then, carefully, he took both waters out of their hands and put them on the table. He moved so slowly it was like watching a sloth, never breaking eye contact. He got really close to her, close enough for her to see the weird line of color in his left eye even with only the dim light from the kitchen reflecting in.

“Is this okay, Rook?” 

In response she pushed forward the last few inches and kissed him like she meant it. More than any pecks they’d given when mandated over the last few months. More than even what she’d thought she do if given the chance. She pressed her hands to his scratch beard and moaned a little appreciatively. 

He pushed her forward, as if to lean over her but she shook her head. 

“Your knees,” she said, simply, then put her hands on his chest and pressed him down against the chest. 

“Are you sure?” he asked again, voice surprisingly anxious face creased with concern. 

She nodded firmly. “Yes, I’m sure… afraid you won’t be able to keep up with me Old Man?” 

He laughed and pulled her down to bring her into another deep kiss. She hadn’t kissed a guy with a beard in a long while, the feeling of rough hair tickling her nose but she didn’t mind. He gave a little unintentional buck, like maybe she’d done something right and it was a giddy thrill. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed and she touched her forehead to his shoulder. 

* 

Waking up on his bed was jarring but then there was the trail of memories of how they got there. Slowly she remembered the kisses and the movement. The attempt at picking her up that she wriggled out of because she wasn’t going to kill his knees. When there weren’t heels involved she barely had to lean to kiss him while she was standing. 

She rolled over to see Mike staring at the ceiling. His face was not the type that she wanted to see the morning after. 

“Morning?” she said, slowly. 

He jerked to looking at her. “Hey.” 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah,” he obviously lied. 

She felt her skin slowly go taught. This. This was what she had told herself a million times over the last few weeks. She was so freaking stupid. She looked up at the ceiling and swallowed. “Okay.” 

“Last night was…” he started and halted. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s been a long few weeks.” 

She thought she knew what the words would feel like but she was wrong. She exhaled. “Yeah.”

There was a long silence that seemed to fill not only the space between them but also the cavernous bedroom. She felt stupid. So fucking stupid. She was… she knew better. She was naked, pretty sure her clothes were in the front room but there was no way she was going to put on a piece of his clothing to go get hers. She stood up. 

“Baker?” 

That didn’t help. She walked towards the front room. Why was there so much freaking glass in this house? She found her clothing in a pile next to the couch. She slipped the dress over her head and just grabbed the underwear beside it. She slipped her shoes on and heard feet from down the hall. 

Mike was wearing workout shorts and an old t-shirt that had holes all over it. She hated that it was stupidly cute. She had her phone in her hand and thankfully it had just enough energy in it for her to hail an Uber. Five minutes out. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. 

“I’m going home,” she said as brightly as she could. 

Mike put his hands on his hips. “I can give you a ride…” 

“Naw,” she shook her head and held up her phone. “Uber.” 

He frowned. “I feel like you’re mad at me.” 

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m not.” 

_I’m mad at me_ , she thought. 

“You sure you don’t want breakfast or… like hang around or something?” he said but couldn’t look her in the eyes. 

Her phone beeped in her hand. 

“Saved by the bell,” she smirked. “It’s okay, Mike. I’m not a clinger. We said we’d say goodbye, so this is the goodbye.” 

“We’ll see each other in the off season,” he frowned. “You’re still working with Eric, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” 

She would be making an active effort to not be seeing him in this offseason. It was the beginning of October, she’d be able to go forward. By February she’ll be better. She would have to be. She moved past Mike, who stood between her and the door. She thought about giving him a hug but she didn’t. Instead she turned and waved when she saw him watching. 

The fact that she made it all the way into the car and to the first stop sign before she broke and cried was a minor miracle. 

*

She went through the motions for the day, worked out in the really subpar hotel workout room. She ate food from room service. She messed around online. She had to avoid social media but it seemed like everywhere she looked was the damn pictures from the day before. Even ESPN seemed like a damn gossip rag.

Her phone rang a few times, nothing big. Amelia called to set up their meeting, she said she needed a few days, and thankfully for once she didn’t push for more information. Evelyn called, but she sent it to the answering machine. Her mom called. Ginny asked if she could come to visit soon and she heard the stutter in her mom’s voice but it was followed by a welcoming yes. When she asked if Mike would come as well she talked around it. 

She went for another run, this time lacing up her shoes and putting on her headphones and a low sling hat. She got out on the open city streets and ran, pushing herself as hard as she could and then turning and running just as hard back. 

By the time she got back to her hotel room she was drenched in sweat and gross. She shouldn’t have been shocked to see Evelyn standing outside her door, leveling her with a look that spoke volumes. 

“Hey,” she said, still catching her breath. “I’d hug you but… sweaty.” 

Ginny grabbed her key card out of her back pocket and slid it in. Her legs felt like jelly and it was only partially because she’d run probably three times as much as she usually did. Evelyn had the ‘mom’ tone in her voice, it wasn’t like she pulled it often with her and actually it rarely bothered her. Her relationship with her mom being what it was, she liked the occasional mothering. 

Now, though, she wasn’t sure if that was what she wanted. It was what she was going to get, though, as she looked at her best friend sit down on her couch. 

“You’ve been lying for weeks,” Evelyn said, and when Ginny started to say something, Evelyn stopped her with a hand. “Blip said he thought it smelled funny but I thought he was wrong. I saw the way you looked at each other. Last night, though, he said you looked sad. All night. Even when you were laughing you looked sad, and he knows that look.” 

She grabbed a bottle of water and sat down in her favorite chair, her feet beneath her. “I never meant to lie to you, Evelyn. It was… it was a stupid idea to get the press away from the photos.” 

“Ginny,” Evelyn’s brows came in. “I wasn’t talking about lying to _me_ , honey.” 

“What?” 

Evelyn blinked at her, like she was the one who was talking cryptically. “You love him.” 

“Evelyn,” she said, but her voice cracked on the middle syllable. She shook her head and tried to keep herself together. Not the time for another break, not the time to cry. “Look. We were faking it. We faked it for too long. It felt… real. Too real. But it’s over. It’s _o-over_.” 

“Get your sweaty ass over here, you idiot,” Evelyn lifted her arms and yeah. This was the moments she needed Evelyn most. She was up and off the couch, in the comforting warmth of her arms. “I’m sorry.” 

She sobbed once, soft and low, head crooked in her friend’s neck. 

Everything poured out in one giant ramble of words. The beginning to the end. The small moments, the big ones. It was weird to finally be able to talk about it. Even her few occasional talks with Amelia had always been cursory, they’d been talking about her sort of ex afterall. To be able to just say the things she’d been thinking felt like taking weights off of her shoulder one by one. 

When she got to the previous night she stumbled around the facts of the situation. She’d remembered feeling so sure in the moment. They were mostly sober, not even close to drunk enough for it to be a fumbling mistake. But that was what the morning had brought. The feeling of a mistake. A giant one. 

“He looked like he pitied me or regretted it,” she ended, the tears finally abating entirely giving way to a numb feeling that had been popping up all day. 

Evelyn squeezed her tightly and made a noise that rumbled in her chest. “Okay lady, pack a bag. You are staying at the Sanders for the next few nights.”

“What?” 

“Do you want to stay here and feel shitty or do you want to come to my house and feel shitty while being cuddled by my kids?” 

And when she put it that way, who could fight it?

She insisted on a shower, then packed up a few clothes, mostly pajamas, a few shirts and a pair of jeans. She brought her phone but switched it to Do Not Disturb, slipping it into her pocket and ignoring the let down that the only texts she’d gotten were from people she didn’t particularly care about. 

Evelyn must have texted Blip, because by the time she got there the boys were already jumping at her and there were two pizzas on the table. He gave her a look but she shook him off, he shrugged and hugged her either way. She didn’t know how she lucked out with the Sanders adopting her but she was eternally thankful for it. 

The pizzas were gone in very little time, the boys and her set up on the couch in their jammies. They were watching the Croods, which the boys whined they were too old for but Ginny over ruled them. It was surprisingly funny and the kids laughed despite their initial eye rolling and annoyance. 

She saw Blip and Evelyn talking in the kitchen and tried to ignore it but Blip didn’t know when to keep his indoor voice down so she kept catching words from it. It was… tiring. She was tired. She looked at the clock on top of the TV and found it was only 7:15, how that was possible she had no idea. She felt Marcus going a little limp beside her and she couldn’t help but feel a little better. 

At about eight Blip came in and lifted Marcus up, while Evelyn made Gabe get up and walk to bed. The movie was over, the credits running, so she finally reached into her pocket and checked her phone. 

In the four or so hours since she shut it down it had gone nuts. There were about two dozen missed calls, over half of them from Mike, three from Amelia and the rest her mom for some reason. She had texts from Amelia that basically just went from, _Text now_ to _What happened_ to _Fuck, CALL ME_. She was surprised they weren’t from Eliot, he usually was the one dictated to. 

No texts from Mike, but a voice mail instead, one she let her finger hover over long enough that Evelyn and Blip walked into the room. 

“You okay?” Blip asked, then groaned. “Dumb question. What’s with the face?” 

Rather than answering she just showed him the phone, Evelyn looking on as well. 

“Did you listen to it?” Evelyn asked. 

“Not yet,” she said, staring at the phone again and biting her lip. 

“LISTEN TO IT,” Blip called out, startling both women.

Evelyn looked at Ginny. “Do you want us to go?” 

Ginny was still focused on the message but she knew that that was probably a bad idea. She bit at a fingernail and shook her head. Evelyn made a relieved noise and took the place right next to her, Blip sitting a little further on the couch. Thank god for family. 

She hit the play button and there was that moment of silence before it started where her heart jumped uncomfortably into her throat. 

“Ginny, where are you? We need to talk… I don’t… Not in the bad way. Fuck, maybe the bad way. I don’t know. You left the house this morning and okay I said stupid shit. I get that. But you left the house and now I don’t know where you are. I’m at your hotel. The guy wouldn’t give me a key. You weren’t answering. Are you in there? Let me in... _Please_.” 

The line went dead and she was left staring at the phone. Blip and Evelyn were having a married silent conversation and she could care less. She stared at the time stamp. He was there an hour ago. He wasn’t still there. He had to have left. But she wondered. She put her phone on the coffee table, feeling a little like she got burned. 

“Well?” Evelyn asked. 

“He’s not there anymore,” she said, softly. “It’s been an hour.” 

Blip let out a laugh, Ginny whipped her head at him. “I’m sorry, do we know the same Mike Lawson? Stubborn ass captain. Weirdly mesmerizing beard, bad knees? Inability to let things go? Sound familiar? … _Ow_?” 

Evelyn, who’d smacked the back of Blip’s head, snapped. “Not helpful, Sanders.” 

“He can’t be there. And I can’t be there. I can’t…” 

She looked at both of them, as if they could just read it on her face. Blip looked mad, but she suspected it wasn’t at her, but at the tears in her eyes. Evelyn was on her own phone, panic rose in her throat. 

“Good evening,” she said. “I’m in room 434 and I heard a disturbance earlier, has that… Oh. Okay. Thank you.” She hung up and frowned. “He left 15 minutes ago. And by left I am saying he was kicked out. Apparently there were a few … um. Complaints.” 

Ginny held her head in both hands. “Fuck. Do you think it could have gotten on the news? I didn’t see any paps when we left but I wasn’t in my car… I guess there could have been. Could there have been?” 

“I haven’t gotten any alerts,” Evelyn said. Blip and Ginny stared at her. “I have a Google alert for Padres, you don’t?” 

“ _No_ ,” they said simultaneously. 

She shrugged. “Well that’s on you, no wonder you guys are never up on what’s going on. Lord, I should start charging for my services.” 

The doorbell ringing interrupted Ginny from pointing out she already makes the money that Blip does. A moment passed in group silence before it rang again and Blip bolted up, while she just stared forward. It didn’t take much to do the math of who that might be. Timing and all that. 

Evelyn’s hand slipped into hers.The door was far enough away that when she heard Mike’s voice echoing in the halls it had to be pretty freaking loud. Her first instinct was to run, even just to the back yard, or possibly through the gate. But running would just prolong this and Evelyn was starting to get twitchy at her side. 

She pushed herself up and Evelyn followed at her side, she walked slower than she generally did but it didn’t matter, as soon as she hit the kitchen she could hear the words that had just been noise moments before. 

“My kids are sleeping, man,” Blip said, his voice lower and more upset than she’d heard in awhile. “You need to keep it down.” 

“Then let me in, Sanders,” Mike said, voice clearer and louder. “I know she’s here. She wouldn’t have gone to Amelia… she would have gone to…” 

He petered out as soon as she hit end of the hall. She had schooled her face into the blankest slate she could manage. Gameday blank, publicity blank. He, in turn, looked manic. His clothes disheveled, hair poofed like it had been when he first woke up. She imagined him walking around his house in his sleep pants all day. Wondered when he’d decided whatever he’d decided. 

“Lawson,” she said, as she got to the front door. 

“Ginny,” he said and his face seemed to cycle through emotions in a way that she’d seldom seen from him. 

She looked between Blip and Evelyn, both training their eyes on her like they were waiting for a sign. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you, I... “ 

“Why do you need me?” 

He grabbed at his hair with both hands and she could see why the poof was so high. “Why? WHY? I wanted to talk to you. You left this morning and we … I … we need to talk.” 

“I feel like we left it all out,” she said, surprised at her sense of calm. “The deal is over.” 

Mike laughed bitterly. “The deal? Ginny? The deal?” 

“That’s what it was,” she said, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Right? Last night was… what did you call it? A long few weeks?” 

He flinched like she’d thrown a ball too close to his head. If she had one handy, she actually might. “I said it was stupid.” 

“You think?” Evelyn interjected. 

Mike looked at the ground. “Can we talk by ourselves?” 

“Hell no,” Evelyn answered but then looked over at Ginny and sighed. “I mean your choice.” 

Ginny knew that both staying and leaving were crappy options but she figured that she might as well figure this out without the other two interjecting. She nodded slightly. “Backyard. I don’t want photos popping up.” 

Blip took a step back and Mike walked fast, like Blip might change his mind. Which, he totally would. Evelyn stared Mike down as he neared and Ginny turned to walk before he could be close enough to touch. She lead as she knew that he would follow. She slid the door to the patio open and left it as she walked out.

It was huge, and full of kids toys. A huge slide and swings. The only adult furniture was a small table to the side. She took one of the seats and Mike sat down across from her. She stared at her steepled hands, bracing herself before she looked up. 

“Go.” 

He frowned and gaped for a long minute. “What the fuck did we do, Rook?” 

She didn’t answer. She just looked at him. Even if he didn’t know it, he was on a clock. She wasn’t going to let herself hurt like this for longer than she had to. He looked away and rubbed at his beard. 

“The first day, you know. When Charlie or Amelia or whoever came up with this brilliant idea, I was so dumb. I thought that it would be easy, right? I’d slept with a few people after Amelia but not many and a break would be nice. Plus, you know, _you_. We’re a good match. 

“Then we got into the hallway and you talked to Evelyn and I heard you say that it had been months for you but nothing for me. I thought… good acting. Or I don’t know. Good selling. But the look on your face. It was _real_. I thought it was real. And it felt good. Not that you thought I was a dick who didn’t want you but…” 

She looked down. “Are we going to rehash all this, cause I was there.” 

Mike scoffed. “Always pushing me, Baker… I didn’t have feelings for you at the beginning, when we met. You were a fucking rookie with wide eyes and my rookie card. Then Blip called you my legacy and I felt responsible. But then… Then we became friends. You answered my stupid phone calls. I hadn’t had that since Rachel, and even with her it wasn’t the same.

“Getting a laugh from you was nice. Then I fucked it up, literally, with Amelia and I remember thinking that not being able to call you was the worst part. The fake dating… that was a weird kick in the ass. A hit to the chest when I realized that I cared. I liked spending all my time with you. And you didn’t seem to hate spending time with me, which was a bonus.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, looking away. “Don’t make this into a joke, Lawson.” 

“I’m trying to say I’m an idiot here,” Mike said. “I’m trying to ask you to forgive me.” 

She looked at him. “Forgive you for what?” 

“For thinking we were just friends, for treating you like an expectation not something I should really enjoy.” 

“What does that even MEAN?” 

Mike laid his hands flat on the table and sighed. “It means that last night wasn’t a long few weeks, it was a long time coming. I wanted to kiss you the first time at Pinkberry. I wanted to kiss you when you were half asleep on my couch talking about Johnson’s pitching. I really wanted to kiss you, _really_ kiss you when you made me laugh.” 

Ginny processed the words slowly, taking breaths and trying to think of something to say that wasn’t _Bullshit_. She watched Mike nervously shift in his seat, watched as he slowly balled his fists and then released them. He was waiting and she knew he expected something profound but she wasn’t sure she had anything profound to give. 

“We both fucked up,” she said.

He tilted his head at her. “What?” 

“We both fucked up by doing this. You said it yourself, we didn’t think it through,” she shrugged and looked at the perfectly maintained grass a few feet away. “I meant what I said when I said it to Evelyn. I knew how I felt from before you telling me about Amelia. I knew it and I didn’t say anything because I knew you would think it was stupid. Hero worship, puppy love or some bull crap.” 

“I would have called it that,” he admitted, his voice dripping with guilt. “And I probably would have thought it was true.” 

“What about now?” 

She looked at him to see him smiling, small and secret. “Maybe it is hero worship. I’m pretty heroic.” 

“Lawson,” she rebuked. “If anything the shine is off that apple. Heroes don’t snore like chainsaws, nor do they kick people in their sleep.” 

“I don’t kick people in my sleep,” he said, disregarding the snoring bit. 

She raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got the scratches on my ankle to prove it. Do you get pedicures? Like, ever? Or even just cut them. You know. Nail cutters. You’ve got the contract, you can afford the 4 bucks.” 

“Oh shut up, Rook,” he rolled his eyes. “Like you sleep like an angel. I had all of two inches of comforter, you sleep like a burrito.” 

She laughed, that was actually a long time thing in her family. She liked to be warm. She caught his eye and thought, well.. _Fuck it_.

When she stood up he stood up, and as soon as they got close enough he landed a soft kiss on her lips. Nothing desperate like the night before. Nothing intense. Just a kiss as if they’d done it a million times before. 

She heard a noise from inside and turned in time to see two people’s backs moving away from the kitchen window. 

“They’ve been parents too long,” Ginny mused. 

“Good thing they aren’t our parents,” he retorted and before she could ask why he kissed her again, more like the kisses from the last night variety. She stepped in as close as their bodies would let her and relaxed. 

She pulled back. “So, no pretend break up.” 

“Ginny,” Mike said. “It stopped being pretend a while ago, catch up.” 

She bit his lower lip in retaliation. 

* 

Pitchers and catchers reported on Valentine’s Day, which apparently warranted a full on Lawson and Baker press conference. It was a little ridiculous. Even if they had been in full on dating mode the whole time it had only really been five or maybe six months. But the press conference was small and easy. No more lies to tell. 

Amelia, who was endlessly amused by the entirety of the situation, orchestrated the questions like a pro. She knew who to ask and who not to and balanced the soft and hard ball questions as evenly as possible. 

“We have time for one more question,” she told the crowd. “And then these two need to get back to actual work. Mr. Clark?” 

“What was it like to first meet each other?” 

Ginny gave him a Cheshire cat smile. “Well, you know it’s love at first sight when a guy tells you that you are the second prettiest player he’s ever played with.” 

She saw Mike bust out laughing out of the corner of her eyes. 

“Second?” the guy asked. 

“Yup, I lost out to a young Leonardo DiCaprio, but really, who could blame him?” 

She felt Mike’s hand on the lower part of her back and she leaned a little into it. They were still keeping to as little PDA as they could when it was work related but it was enough to feel the familiar warmth of him. 

He leaned into her ear. “I’d take you over DiCaprio any day.” 

She laughed and the flashes went off but for once she didn’t care.

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU LUCIFERN FOR THE BETA! :) 
> 
> Title is from iRobot (Human Condition) by Jon Bellion
> 
> It took a while so this week screwed with me. ONE DAY LATE. Lord.


End file.
